It's the little things in life....

We just returned from a short car trip to the Boston area.
The above picture is indicative of one of a million small kindnesses my husband shows daily. Thank you my darling. 
This morning, as we step around suitcases, and bags to get to the kitchen and restart our daily lives, Drew got up first, made coffee, poured milk from the heavy new container into the pretty pitcher for me.

 He made coffee, went out to wash the residual poison mosquito spray (my neighbors think we need to poison the atmosphere every three weeks for 6 months a year) from our porch, and took some forms to the bank for me, all to allow me a gentler re-entry into our silent house.

It's the daily, small gestures that make up love.

On our trip we spent a day in lovely, artistic, gentle Cape Cod where I was brought to tears by the landscape. I found myself wanting to move in for a week, with my paints and notebooks.

We spent the next day immersed in American history, visiting Plymouth to see where Pilgrims made a home in an unknown land. Thanksgiving will have new meaning for me this year. We also saw the birth place of one of my favorite presidents, John  Adams. I love that he chose a strong wife, and listened to her.

The final day of our trip was spent in Newport RI, admiring architecture of America's "castles" or the "cottages" / mansions of that yachting town. We were so smitten, we bought a membership ticket so that we would return at the holidays. It's like investing in future beauty.

I had one major meltdown the final evening.
I hoped for a break from pain but it does follow you wherever you go doesn't it? One can have a diversion and that is a good balance for loss. The last day, we walked in Newport, where we went with Cole as a yearling. I think that coupled with our upcoming return to real life, sent me into tears again.

I also wonder on introspection, is my regret and second guessing at our final timing to let Cole go, a way to hold onto him.
 In a strange way.
The keening, the regret of not feeding him more, wondering if we could have done something, anything to keep him safe and comfortable...

It is the final acceptance of a sad situation...we can't always protect and keep those we love. We are human. Life has cycles. There is a limit to what we have control over. All the tears in the world won't push off the inevitable loss. I wonder how life will change once I come to acceptance, one of the stages in grief.

No matter what the loss is, a parent, a flooded out house (poor quiltswissy in Baton Rouge) or a 14 year old poodle-son, the stages of grief are the same.

I thank you all for walking the walk with me as I continue to blog about living the creative life. This is my real life, and I plan to share it here.
I have many pictures to show you involving creativity from our exploration of the Northeast. I hope you stay with me on this journey of life. love, LeeAnna